


Detroit 2048

by carricancan



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game), Detroit: Become Human (Video Game) RPF
Genre: CyberLife (Detroit: Become Human), Detroit Police Department (Detroit: Become Human), Deviancy (Detroit: Become Human), Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Post-Peaceful Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Red Ice (Detroit: Become Human), Tags May Change, Unofficial Sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:47:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21983155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carricancan/pseuds/carricancan
Summary: Set place five years after the events of Detroit, where Markus is able to peacefully succeed in convincing President Warren to see androids as sentient beings without Connor's army, Detroit is just starting to change. Young human journalist Rachel Burnstone is tasked to write a simple narrative about the victims of the Red Ice Epidemic. What she didn't expect was how it was all connected to the upcoming presidential election, android inequailty, and CyberLife.Suddenly, Rachel isn't just writing a mere story: she's writing a document that can save thousands of lives, both human and android. What she needs more than ever are allies. With rumors of another android revolution and Cyberlife taking the initiative to silence any whistleblower, Rachel needs to do more than just tread carefully.
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

"C'mon ya lazy asses! At this rate, I should have fired you all and hired androids to do your crappy jobs for less!"

This was Louis Harper at his best. The bureau chief of Detroit Today had seen his fair shares of good and bad stories; being a harsh critic towards his staff was the best way for the newspaper company to make profits with their great story. Whether it was the exclusive interview with CyberLife or a simple listicle about the top ten places to eat in Detroit, Michigan, he was always nitpicking, always scrutinizing, always hungry for the best scoop in the city. Who can question his tactics- he was responsible for the increase in sales since his start as the chief of the company ten years ago. Rachel Burnstone learned quickly to always make sure she was on his good side in terms of contributions. For now, she hasn't disappointed him yet. It wasn't hard making listicles for any ordinary reader to skim through and Harper, as everyone at the cramped office tend to call him, approved her rather not-so-depth pages of top ten retro cat videos or ancient songs from "The Ooze" decade that shaped modern music today. Then again, writing listicles is probably the easiest, most consistent thing Rachel could do without spending too much energy compared to investigative journalism. She’s daydreaming again; no one knows it, but she’s doing it. It’s easy to do it when you write the same thing over and over again.

“You call that a good story?” He was now berating a young journalist who just gave him his current work. That took her out of dreamland and back to furiously typing as if she was doing hard work. “This looks more like a children’s book nanny androids read to their kids! Fix this!” Some may find Louis Harper's words cruel or his methods were draconian at best, but anyone who knew him would defend his harsh approach as tactful and meaningful albeit blunt. For Rachel, this was worth a simple career path that gave her enough money to live on and have that social status of being the remaining humans who haven’t lost their jobs to the androids yet.

But even with a rather steady gig fresh out of college doing nothing but writing the same type of article every single day eventually became boring. Rachel didn't openly state her opinion about it, but there were days where she wished she could have worked on something spectacular. If you knew her enough that she would be willing to get drunk and crying in front of you at two in the morning on a Tuesday, she would say she wanted to be a writer because she wanted to make a difference. She's read about journalists in the past like Oprah and Anderson Cooper- how they impacted the world made her choose her path. Rachel was probably more human than she would admit: she wanted to be a part of something big and receive all the credit, rewards, and praise she could for it- while helping others at the same time, of course.

But if you ask her why she finds her place in journalism and you’re just a random Jove App Date, Rachel will say she simply entered writing because of necessity. It was something that represented her generation today: work for survival, not passion. With many jobs in both Detroit and the rest of America being "taken over" by androids and the source of money increasingly belonging to the rich, Rachel wanted to make sure that whatever she is doing can help her at least be financially stable. Although she had interests in other things, like helping create androids, she didn't feel like she was smart enough to be a programmer or engineer; the anti-android sentiments her family also had didn’t provide the support she needed to pursue such things. Writing, especially journalism, seemed like the only option to go. She didn't mind writing so long as she is paid to do so, and journalism was one of the few remaining career fields that haven't been "invaded" by android replacements. She still wouldn't make a lot of money unless she had some sort of break-through- but at least she can maintain a roof over her head, afford to eat out once every few months, and still have some cash left.  
Of course, she didn’t mind receiving more. The least she wanted to achieve was a better job position in the Detroit Daily, something more than just a mere reporter- editor, for example- so at least she had more security and possibly a higher rank in terms of society. "Have people work for you instead of you working for them," was what her father once told her when he lost his job as a mechanic for over 20 years. “That way, no android would replace you.”

Rachel resumed daydreaming. Even though she claims her love for writing is a mere necessity than passion, it didn’t mean she wished for something big with her career. Her visual reality was replaced by her mind’s as bright lights nearly blinded her. Last time she was dreaming about talking to the great Elon Musk in front of a live audience, having her thought-provoking questions aired on Detroit television. This time, her daydream had her the one being interviewed. In a studio colored in shades of warm yellows and oranges, the television was tuned to the Morning Show with Michael Brinkley. Commercial just finished playing and Michael introduced her to the large group of clapping audience members. There Rachel walked with her hand waving gracefully to her adoring fans, for once not tripping on high heels, and greeting Michael and the other show guests with hellos. Rachel sat poised, yet still relaxing, and Michael was excitedly asking her about her upcoming memoir. With her imagined charisma, she talked about her struggles as a writer rising to the ranks of becoming like the ranks of Gayle King and such. More imaginary applause, people rushing to download her book as it sells out, Rachel could go on forever. Her name was on all the billboards with her book title next to her, critics giving her full scores online about how beautiful her story was, people chanting her name to get photographs or signed pictures.

“You do know it’s already passed six”, her daydream was interrupted. Her co-worker and cubicle partner was trying to get her attention for the third time. His name was Ethan Michaels. He asked her the same rhetorical question again, but the first time was enough to wake her up.

Ethan didn’t bother to hear her create excuses about why she didn’t respond at first; he doesn’t blame her for doing something he does every now and then. He watched her scramble to pack up her stuff while she also tried to look as if she wasn't just going off into space a while ago. "I'm pretty sure that you're not the overworking type,” Ethan pointed out her lie and continued to ramble, “or you're really that into your current work right now to be sitting at your desk for the past eight hours. Then again, maybe you're staying later at work because you don't have anything to go home to after work-"  
"I do have a social life," she interrupted him as she zipped her bag up She had emphasized on the second word. "Mind you, I have something to go home to."

"The food in your fridge doesn't count," he refuted. "If anything, I have something in mind if you want to join me."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "If you're planning on sex, then forget about it-"

"No!" A chuckle came out from both of them. They were childhood friends, never considering to have any relationships beyond platonic- at least Rachel- but they do joke about it from time to time. “That's not what I'm inviting you to do,” Ethan continued, “I'm asking if you want to spend the night with me doing some... scrap-yarding?"  
Ethan whispered the last word in her ear just as an android security guard walked pass by. Even though the office was closed at the usual five in the afternoon, there were still a few workers and a couple of androids serving as custodians around the place.

Rachel's eyes widen once she heard his suggestion. She hadn't done scrap-yarding in a while, let alone, even tinkered with anything related to androids ever since she started college. It was the closest thing she had to work with androids, as her family was completely against any kin being involved in creating or developing those "job stealers" and "soul-less machines" in any way, even if they merely created the machines to make them. Even so, with the recent events of the Revolution Day in September, the concept is slowly becoming taboo and some cities in Michigan were starting to make laws criminalizing it. Scrap-yarding, of course, had been wrong even before Revolution Day: the idea of forcefully stealing, deactivating, and tearing apart androids is now seen as the equivalent of torturing and mutilating actual humans. Of course, some individuals pointed out that scrap-yarding was and still is one of the few methods of survival for those who have “lost” their jobs and try to play off remorseless scrap-yarders as those who didn’t know any better, but the debate was still ongoing on whether it should actually be outlawed. Others state that high prices for android parts due to a limited market meant androids are not able to repair themselves and scrap-yarding is a necessity to help aid struggling androids by repurposing old parts.

Rachel can understand why scrap-yarding was such a fun hobby; it was the thrill of stealing parts and recreating something of one’s own was what excited her when she first started. Ethan also shared the same sentiments, though he still scrap-yards to sell android parts for a cheaper price or use the parts to fix certain appliances for a fee. Even then and now, neither Ethan or Rach would dare kidnap a currently activated android for their parts. The two of them only salvage through already deactivated or detached android parts they found in the android landfills or simply thrown on the streets. Sometimes, androids would willingly give limbs in exchange for money to survive; Ethan and Rachel vowed to never agree to such transaction. Neither have the proper equipment to actually repair and sell good-quality parts that end up 100 percent reusable again, which is why they either end up as weird artwork, replacement parts for washing machines, androids in need of a hand that no longer functions.  
"Well," Rachel finally decided to accept his invitation, "I'll go if I get to put the stuff I found in your studio and use your studio to do my tinkering if I do any." Ethan eagerly agreed and the two began to head towards the elevator.

Five stories were not enough to contain the conversation the two had about their childhood together. Rachel remembered how she spent most of her time simply attaching random limbs together to create mechanical sculptures in her early years of scrap-yarding. “You remember the ‘Binary Tree’ sculpture I made,” she asked Ethan as they were exiting the building. “Your mom freaked out when she saw a bunch of arms just swaying in the room.” The two of them decided to share stories about their early years of scrap-yarding. “Do you remember that one man that taught us how to do all of this,” Ethan asked her. “We should pay him a visit sometime. If I remember correctly, his name started with a Z? ”  
Rachel nodded in agreement. “I’ve always wondered how he managed to get so many android parts...” She muttered a thank you to the security guard as she started walking to her apartment. The two had agreed to meet again in two hours.

It was a moonless night; rain clouds covered the sky and the drizzle was becoming more strong. By the time the clock turned eight, the two met each other at the gates of a former android landfill. Now known as the Detroit Android Cemetery, it was treated as such by some of the human population and renovated to resemble an actual resting place for the androids that were deactivated before the events of Revolution Day happened. Unlike a regular cemetery, androids were still placed in piles. Death wasn’t really seen in the same like to androids compared to humans, but androids insisted on at least having a place to put their deceased. Some human allies pushed this to happen, and now the place was renovated to look more like a guarded land-fill.

Even though it was guarded, funding has been dwindling in terms of repairing the fences that held the deactivated androids were becoming easier to break and some individuals who were caught breaking into getting off scot-free. It’s not just the scrap-yarders- desperate androids are becoming more commonly found in the cemetery to find parts to either sell or use for themselves. Dressed in all black, Ethan and Rachel began to climb the rusty barbed fence, careful to not injure themselves as they climb up and down the barrier. Flashlight in hand, the two of them began searching for potential parts. The area they broke into was mostly full of already broken down androids; no parts were salvageable and plants were already sprouting out of a few cracks.

“You don’t really need to pack that much,” Ethan whispered.

“I did not pack that much,'' Rachel replied. “All I packed were some disassembling tools and a CPU battery.” Ethan pointed to the battery. “That’s what I meant about not packing that much: the battery. I know you haven’t been doing this in a while but there is no way you would find an android CPU that’s still in good use. It’s like finding a fresh lung in a body that may have been here for years. Plus, those batteries don’t always guarantee an android CPU will continue to run out of the body without more expensive equipment immediately plugged into it.” Rachel knew Ethan was probably right but she still kept her pride. “Well,” she tried to refute, “you just haven’t found a proper core-processor. And I’m sure my battery will work fine.” She sighed, a cloud of hot air filled the air between them.  
The two decide to split up before meeting at the same place again Rachel struggled to walk through the large walls of bodies, careful to not damage them any further, as she tried to find a potential piece to take home. The rush was coming back as she tried to search for some sort of memento that can catch her eye. She cringed at the sound of her shoes squishing with each step before a faint red light was seen in front of her.

At first, she thought it was a security guard about to apprehend her. She realized that the figure froze rather than move at all and Rachel shone a light to whoever was watching her. It was another android trying to find parts, terrified that they were going to be in trouble- so Rachel turned her flashlight away. Immediately, the android left without a word.

Rachel continued to search, occasionally catching Ethan in the faint moonlight with a handful of parts. She couldn’t help but think of how lucky he was to find something cool already. It wasn’t until she heard a faint beep when she turned around and noticed a broken android with its back against another pile of deactivated androids.

She has never seen a model as such, though it also was hard to guess what model it might have been due to the damage it seemed to take before arriving at the cemetery. Its clothing resembled something that looked like it worked in an office of sorts; it looked extremely modern compared to other android models before Revolution Day but also torn by weather and whatever assault it had to deal with before. The skin and hair were already deactivated, but Rachel couldn’t help but notice the attention to detail with its facial structure as she shone a light to its face. The LED was still flickering red, a common sign of distress or defeat, and it looked like most of its Thirium was drained from the puncture wounds and deep cuts all over the body. None of the external limbs were still in good use; an arm was already detached and laid abandoned a few inches away. With a few small tools she managed to carry, Rachel began opening its torso to see whatever parts she could salvage underneath. Just as her luck would have it, only one part wasn’t damaged: an android CPU that somehow was still running. Part of her wanted to jump for joy. If she’s able to keep the CPU running with her battery, she can either sell it at a high price or use it to make something amazing; if she fails, she at least would add something to her collection. Another thought, however, came into her mind. A running CPU means the android is still sentient. Rachel told herself that she would never use a part of an android while it was still activated; but at the same time, the android had been motionless, endured damages that probably render it as useless, and possibly in pain (if androids do truly feel pain). With the size of the android compared to her small figure, Rachel knew she couldn’t simply carry the whole thing herself.

Carefully and quickly she attached the battery as fast as she could while carefully taking out the CPU. With the flashlight in her mouth, she quietly tried to apologize for her actions through whispers. The roaring thunder made it difficult to hear the raindrop around her but it didn’t deter her from continuing. A faint blue light glowed from the inside, slowly fading as she moved upwards towards the head. Just as she opened the torso before, she started to gingerly open the face panels to get the remaining attachments. It was a race against time- the moment she detached a wire, she quickly attached to the loose wires on her battery to keep it running. Throughout the whole process, Rachel tried her best to not damage any other part of the android, in fear of creating more damage, as she eventually unwired the last connection to the body. The red LED light that was beeping a while ago went dark by the time Ethan caught up to her. Rachel managed to get the CPU running again with the battery and couldn’t help but notice the now deactivated android’s eyes. It didn’t look like it was betrayed or angry but rather relieved. Rachel wasn’t able to process what was going on when Ethan interrupted her thoughts.

“Ready to go?” His question caught her off guard. Rachel remembered that he said to meet up at the fenced area they came from, but he interrupted her. “I saw a couple of scrap-yarders walking around,” he explained. “They surrounded a walking android and tore it apart. I don’t know what they would do to us if they see what we got.”

The rain fell harder. And with that, the two were off, leaving the empty shell of the android exposed to the drops of water.


	2. Chapter 2

Rachel caught herself daydreaming again when Ethan called her one Saturday morning. 

It has been three months since her last scrap-yard adventure and she gave the android CPU to him for tinkering. “I feel like it deserves to be some sort of new use,” she told him. “It doesn’t have to be a new android but something that brings it new life, if you can.” She had completely forgotten about the situation since then, returning back to her daily routine of writing listicles, getting coffee, daydreaming, repeat. While touring the new Android History museum funded by CyberLife, she couldn’t help but overhear some younger teens loudly discussing something as if no one was there. From just standing a few feet away from them, Rachel could smell a faint scent of marijuana.

“It’s pretty clear that Morgan Wang is up to something.” 

“Don’t you mean Morgan DANG! ‘Cuz she’s hella hot if you ask me.”

“Bro, you know that I’m gay right?”

“Shit, man- I forgot. Sorry, dude.”

“But if Morgan was a dude, I would bang.”

“Hell yeah, bro.”

It was an accepted opinion: the CEO of Cyberlife was a woman who was extraordinary. Rachel couldn’t help but wonder what the first teenager had to say about Ms. Wang while being under the influence of weed. She couldn’t help but wonder how he managed to talk and smoke with all his red hair covering his face. She tried her best to look like she wasn’t listening to the two and appear as if she was simply admiring the exterior of the museum. 

“I mean, Morgan, right? She basically ran Cyberlife since the Elijah dude left- since then, Android usage had increased drastically into society. We see more people lose jobs and treat them like trash when she took over. And yet here she is doing all this pro-Android bullshit.” The teenager gestured to the museum with his thin arms before inhaling another smoke. “You would think that a company that is indirectly related to Android inequality would get bad PR after all that’s happened,” he continued, “but Cyberlife’s stocks have soared! This lady is getting richer by the day despite her arguably being the Android’s enemy. What’s up with that?”

It was one of those things no one wants to acknowledge; Morgan was too powerful for anyone to question; the suspicion surrounding Cyberlife was something people whispered. No one dared to say it out loud, partly because a ridiculous conspiracy theory about Cyberlife having a secret police recently circled around. Rachel wanted to hear more when her phone finally rang. 

“You got to come over right now and see what I made for you.” That’s all Ethan said before he hung up.

Ethan’s studio was just half of his bedroom covered with android parts, sketches, and splashes of Thirium from trying to take apart some parts still filled with the liquid. It looked messier than the last time she saw it. Right as Rachel entered his room, he almost trampled over a pile of in-progress work before grabbing what looked like a strange pair of glasses; a cable was attached on the left side. She held the spectacle carefully, turning it at each angle to figure out what it was. 

“That CPU you managed to take and make it still alive all this time,” Ethan was barely looking up from a laptop while furiously typing away with one hand, “is something I’ve never seen before. Do you know what model the android was?” The other half of the cable was attached to a USB port on his computer. 

“No,” Rachel replied. “I was actually hoping you would know. I couldn’t tell when I got the CPU. I can only assume that it’s some sort of prototype that Cyberlife had but discarded.” Ethan tells her to put the glasses on as he continued typing. “Well,” he began, “it was strong enough for me to reduce into this: I.R.I.S.! Also known as Information Retrieval for Investigation and Strategy. A wearable smart glasses to bring a personal AI everywhere you want to help you with the basics of life.” 

Rachel could only stare. The remnants of the CPU’s was idly lying on a nearby desk, connected to some other machinery to keep it running. “The CPU is just a hollow shell now for helping me power stuff,” Ethan further explained. “I took most of the code and put it into a compact pair of glasses, so the hardware stuff I took out is isn’t necessary to carry around. I hope you don’t mind.” 

“It’s fine,” Rachel was more impressed at the moment. “I’m surprised you managed to make such a thing.” She immediately put them on, and pressed the button on the side of her glasses. The circular button immediately glowed blue; it almost looked like she was an android herself. A light hum could be heard as the glasses began to wake up. The rims briefly glowed red before glowing blue to signal it has been turned on. The glow fades away and the lens, once completely black, turned transparent. At Ethan’s point of view, it looked as if she was wearing regular glasses. 

Through Rachel’s eyes, the glasses appeared as if she was looking at a computer screen while the computer is booting up. Faint text appeared to tell her what stage of the boot the glasses were at. Ethan, now confident that it can function on its own, unplugs the cable from his computer and waited for any noticeable changes. He went up to her and detached the cable that was previously attached to his computer. A few smaller cables were hanging from the sides of the glasses; Ethan attached them behind Rachel’s earlobs as Rachel witnessed text appear and disappear from the lense. 

NEURAL CONNECTION SUCCESSFUL.

AUDIO CONNECTION SUCCESSFUL. 

PLEASE WAIT ON STANDBY FOR CUSTOMIZATION. 

More words flew by, but Rachel mostly ignored them; they were merely words to signal what was going on. What finally got her attention was a voice that belonged to neither her or Ethan. 

“Hello?”

Ethan could read the shock on her face. On his end, he couldn’t hear anything. Rachel, however, did. 

“Who are you? Where am I?” It spoke again. 

“Did you program some sort of voice with this,” Rachel asked Ethan before the mysterious voice could speak again. Now it was Ethan turn to be shocked. He shook his head before struggling to run his fingers through his thick hair. 

“No, it must be from whatever android you took it from. Ethan was amazed. 

“What is it saying?” 

Rachel wasn’t able to answer him right away when the voice came back. “Where am I? What’s going on?” She tried her best to reassure it, whatever it was anyway. 

“Don’t be afraid,” it wasn’t the best words to use but what else could she say? “My friend and I put you in here so you can still function, at least until we can find you a body to reside in. Do you have a name? Can you tell us who you are?” Ethan wished he could hear the conversation between them. It looked to him as if Rachel is just talking to herself. He was slightly struck by surprise with Rachel’s tone of voice. It sounded really dumb. 

The voice that served as the AI didn’t sound robotic or scripted; it felt too human. Whatever this model of android it used to be must have been curated to be expensive as well as more human than any other android. Who would have abandoned such a thing? 

“I don’t know what I am,” it hesitated to answer. “I just know I served a purpose before.”

The only thing Rachel could think of was to answer with kindness. “That’s alright,” she reassured the AI. “We can figure it out together with you later. But let’s start with a name- at least so we know what to refer to you as. Do you remember what you used to be called? What model you come from?” Looking through the glasses was like looking through a regular screen that occasionally pops up some text and calculations. The AI responded again with a different question, confused. 

“Model? Was I an android?”

Rachel relayed the words back to Ethan. He groaned in frustration. “Great,” he reacted. “There’s no way we can find the proper model with how intricate the CPU was to put it together.”

“I think my memory has been wiped,” the AI continued. It sounded sad. 

Rachel relayed the message back to Ethan again to get some explanation. “I had to erase some of its memory to make sure no viruses or tracking code that would compromise the implementation,” he reasoned. “I didn’t know how much would be erased though.” Rachel relayed the explanation back to the glasses, which made the AI understand; it still didn’t alter the AI’s mood. “Is there a name that you would like to be called until you can remember,” Rachel asked. “Any name you like.”

Any name you like. For some reason, those words brought a surge of vague memories back into the AI. All it could see was a picture of someone. It had a name on it, but he wasn’t sure what relationship he had with the boy. Maybe that boy was him…

It was a long day for all three of them. Rachel bid Ethan farewell and made her way back to her apartment. Whatever this AI was, it had a knack for signaling potential hazards that Rachel almost ran into; it was almost as if she had a guardian. Throughout their time walking, she tried to jog the AI’s memory to remember any details. “Where did you work before you came to the cemetery,” she began. 

“This place called CyberLife? According to the internet, it is one of the biggest manufacturers for androids and run by current CEO Morgan Wang Stravinsky and founded by former CEO Elijah Kamski.”

“And what was your function at CyberLife? Were you a service android? A desk android?”

“I’m not sure. I had a boss, though… I don’t know her name but she tells me what to do. Potential speeding driver up ahead towards your direction.”

The red car was being chased by a few police cars as the driver poked his head out of the window. Rachel could smell the faint scent of alcohol and stronger scent of gasoline coming from vehicle; it didn’t take her long to see it was a mechanical one and not autonomous. The drunk driver zoomed passed by as he cursed obscenities about androids- as if the inappropriate anti-android decorations on his car wasn’t enough to get the message across. Soon, the driver’s voice faded into the distance and police sirens deafened the streets before they too fade away. 

“Well,” Rachel continued, “what tasks did she make you do?”

“What is with these questions,” the AI asked back. “A catcaller is reported to be in one block of your direction. Reports have been called on him but he still persists. Would you like to go another direction?”

“Yes please,” Rachel replied. “I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable about that. I just wanted to help you figure out more of your memory. That way, it can be easier to find a body for you so you’re not restricted and can do as you please.”

“I appreciate the help,” it responded. A tone of gratitude could be heard from it. “I didn’t mean to appear standoff-ish. I simply wanted to know.

“I still don’t remember much about what I needed to do, but thank you for helping me in some way at least.” The catcaller she was warned about was calling her from across the street. Carefully, she walked quickly without giving any attention even as the calls grew louder and more aggressive. “I have the police department ready on call if that man gets closer.” Luckily, the catcaller stopped his actions and continued onto the next woman walking by. 

“According to some web articles,” the AI remarked, “crime rate in Detroit has been increasing in terms of crimes relating to race, sexuality, and gender, which-”

“It’s because of android equality,” Rachel resigned herself to say. By the time she said that, the two of them reached the first floor of her apartment complex. The AI was confused. “The United States of America has seen a decrease in crimes related to these due to more acceptance, and it became especially low when androids became more accessible to the public.” 

“What the statistics don’t tell you is why,” Rachel had a slightly harsher tone. Her gender, race, and sexuality classes from her required college courses were coming back to her; not that she didn’t mind taking the classes, but rather she already knew these things through experience. 

“I don’t think androids can fantom this but we humans had a history with race for a long time. It’s why this country was able to function the way it is, and why it still exists. We humans are slow to change anything, even when we are still suffering from it. Androids ‘solved’ this problem by becoming the next scapegoat. People can now live their hate-filled fantasies by putting it on androids. But now that androids are considered equal by law, that scapegoat is no longer there.”

There was silence between them. “I’m sorry,” Rachel apologized. “I didn’t mean to be angry or put that all on you. It’s just… really hard to figure out things since this all happened.”

“You said it yourself,” the AI reassured her. “Humans are slow to change. The internet says that the events now known as Android Day only happened five years ago. I see it on the online forums resonating what you just told me.

“I’m currently at 25 percent battery. I will need to be charged as soon as possible.”

Ethan told her before she left that the glasses would be spending a lot of its batteries on the first run. After the first charge, it can run for years without it. Rachel carefully removed the connections from her head before placing the glasses down and plugging it in, the lights slightly flickering as a result. Rachel slipped into bed, noting the time was still eight in the evening. Still, she was exhausted anyway and found herself fast asleep without turning any of her lights off.

The AI, however, was still active. The questions Rachel asked were still up in the air, and it wonders what sort of life it led before it came to where it was today. That image of the photo came back, and the AI mused at the name it chose for itself. It was a male name and it had a male voice, so the AI decides to refer to itself as he. He wondered whether that boy was some sort of child he had to take care of or was a friend of his before. He started to imagine what sort of life he had with such a child. Before going into sleep mode, he thought about his new name. Maybe he can find that child again and figure out where he came from. Or maybe he and the child really had the same names. Hopefully, the AI thought, he can keep his name. 

Cole.

It had a nice ring to it. 


End file.
